


Take Me On (Then Take Me Home)

by totallycheesey



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Competitive Nature, Fluff, M/M, micheoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallycheesey/pseuds/totallycheesey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael gets a drink with Geoff, and immediately initiates a competition for who can hold their alcohol the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me On (Then Take Me Home)

                Texas, Michael thought distastefully as he observed the bar he had stumbled across. Football was playing on every available television screen, though the sound was covered by the cheers and otherwise noisy conversation of the casual bar-goers. His cheeks were burning from the heat that he had escaped from outside, even though it was already nine o’clock at night. Still, there wasn’t much better for him to do than to drink. It was the summer after his final year of staying with his family in New Jersey, and he was in Austin to enjoy the surroundings and eventually find work because there was no way in hell that Michael would be able to find it in himself to attend college. Jobs were plenty in Austin; at least, that was the way that his mother had put it to him.

                “A bourbon,” he ordered as he sat down on a bar stool, feeling the cool metal press through his jeans. A drink would do him well.

                He turned to his left to see if the person beside him was interesting, but all he found was a back turned to him, shaking from the laughter of a conversation on the other end. Michael found himself sighing and hunching forward into the bar. The seat to his right was empty, and the team that was playing on television was barely familiar enough for him to feel a pang of irritation towards the ass-kicking they were receiving. His drink was pressed into his hands, and in afterthought he leaned up to flash the bartender a smile of appreciation. Texans were strange; they expected reactions of gratitude. In Jersey, Michael would have been lucky not to have his fingers jammed by the force of the bar tender shoving his drink at him.

                Just as he took a sip from the whiskey, he felt someone sit beside him and automatically turned to face the stranger. It was a man that was maybe five or ten years older than he, with dark hair and stubble to match. His bright blue eyes were half-shut, as though he was either exhausted or terminally dazed. His skin was pale and hidden under a large T-shirt that advertised the original Xbox.

The man turned to Michael and grinned. “This is the shittiest bar in Austin.”

“Yeah,” Michael retorted, placing the glass back on the bar and sitting up a little straighter. “I kind of noticed.”

“Just as well,” the man sighed. “I’m supposed to stop drinking alcohol until I’m done with the army, but whatever. Doesn’t matter what bar it happens in as long as there’s a drink in my hand.” He turned to the bar tender, who was wiping his hands on a cloth, and ordered, “Bourbon on the rocks, please.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “A big fan of whiskey?”

“No, just a big fan of being drunk.” He held out a hand. “I’m Geoff. And you are?”

Taking Geoff’s hand slowly, Michael echoed, “I’m Michael.” He couldn’t help but notice the many tattoos coating Geoff’s arms. It was yet another thing they had in common. Knowing that this man was interesting enough to keep him entertained at least for the night’s duration and realizing that he would rather be downing alcohol than making real conversation, Michael said, “Fifty bucks says that I can take more whiskey than you can.”

Geoff’s drink was placed before him, and it was only then that Michael realized that they were still holding hands. He let go quickly, feeling his cheeks sting with embarrassment as Geoff chuckled. “Sorry, but I won’t challenge anyone as young as you. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Prickles of anger rushed through Michael’s arms. “I’m not that young.”

The smile Geoff had been wearing grew wider. “So, tell me, exactly how old are you?”

“Uh…” Michael blushed angrily. “Twenty-two.” It wasn’t exactly true; he would be turning twenty-two in three months. He took another swig from his glass, careful not to get too red-faced or look too irritated. “How old are you?”

Geoff’s teeth shone in the bar’s light viciously. “I’ll be thirty in half a year.” He, too, lifted his glass to drink. Michael could feel his blush grow into something more embarrassed than angry as he watched Geoff’s throat contract as he swallowed. He put down the drink and brushed his lips on the back of his hand and asked, “Something bothering you?”

Michael blinked. “No, no… I…” He could twist this to his advantage. “I think you’re scared that you’ll lose to me.”

Cocking his head, Geoff asked, “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Michael asserted, his blush fading away with his determination. He wanted to get drunk, and he wanted an excuse. This would be perfect. Plus, a little competition couldn’t hurt. He was willing to bet that Geoff was a flirty drunk, or at least an entertaining one.

“Well…” Geoff slid an arm up onto the bar to prop his head on, tattoos faintly outlined by the chaotic bar lighting. “I’ll take up your offer, but only if you take up mine.”

Eyebrow rising, Michael said, “I’m listening.”

“Since I have to play the adult in this situation, I want you to have complete trust in me that I will be able to take care of you after you’re drunk off your ass.” He spoke calmly, as though he were reading off the terms of a contract rather than advising a stranger.

Michael couldn’t help but grit his teeth in anger. “I’m no minor. Besides, how the fuck do you expect me to trust you when I don’t even know you? For Christ’s sake, we’ve known each other for all of ten minutes!” His hands pressed against the surface of the bar so he could stop his arms from shaking.

“And what a memorable ten minutes it’s been,” Geoff commented blithely, leaning further into his arm.

Sighing, Michael answered, “Fine. I trust you to take care of me or whatever. Just stop treating me like a four year-old, alright?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

And that was how Michael found himself downing a second, then a third, then a fourth glass of bourbon, all the while sneaking glances at Geoff as he sucked his drinks down accordingly. The man had a way of drinking alcohol that flaunted his obvious years of experience without making him physically brag to Michael. Hell, it hadn’t been until Geoff’s third drink that he had even begun to blush. And Michael, intoxicated to the point that it would cover for his staring, had drunk in the sight alongside his whiskey. Geoff was fucking beautiful, and his reddening cheeks were only adding to the effect.

However, Geoff still had the upper hand. Michael was already slurring and swaying while Geoff remained steady, and it was making Michael anxious. Anxious in the way that made him feel the heat radiating from Geoff’s body because they were so close and he was so fucking wasted.

“H… How d’you do that? It’s… It’s fuckin’ unbelievable,” Michael drawled, Jersey accent roughening his words as he spoke.

Geoff raised an eyebrow, though Michael could tell that he was holding back a chuckle. “What?”

Michael rolled his eyes, though he immediately wished he hadn’t when the room around him turned in circles. “You’re drinkin’ like a goddamn camel! It’s like you aren’t… Aren’t even affected.”

Grinning his cocky grin, Geoff replied, “Well, I guess I just know how to hold my drinks.”

“But,” Michael said, raising his finger in the air for punctuation, “I know you’re getting drunk. I mean, why else would you b… be blushin’?”

At Michael’s statement, Geoff’s eyes widened, revealing the soft blue of his irises. He blushed deeper, biting his lip worriedly as his confidence shriveled. Michael watched as Geoff’s muscles tensed beneath his sleeves of ink art. It was endearing, to say the least.

“Ha! I knew it! You are drunk, you motherfucker…” It was Michael’s turn to smile a crocodile grin. He stretched his still-raised finger to run along Geoff’s jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble against his fingertip. Geoff’s skin was hot under Michael’s touch, the redness of his embarrassment that had once been faint now painting the entirety of his face. Somehow, this all made sense. Geoff was drunk, Michael had won.

“Just admit it…” Michael traced his finger up to the corner of Geoff’s lips, stopping so that Michael could take in Geoff’s simultaneously shocked and intrigued expression in its entirety. “I outdrank you.”

Geoff swallowed, the movement traveling through Michael’s fingertip like electricity. His eyes were still wide, the blue so fucking lush that Michael could drown. And, all at once, Geoff was moving Michael’s finger and leaning forward and holy shit how had they gotten so close without realizing it and-

Their lips were together.

The hotness of Geoff’s mouth was so incredible that Michael nearly gasped, the alcohol and sensation of Geoff’s hand creeping around Michael’s waist so intoxicating that Michael could feel himself slipping off the bar stool. Geoff pulled away, stood from his seat, and walked the two steps to Michael’s sitting form to put his arms around Michael again, looking up at Michael. From his sitting position, Michael was taller than Geoff and if it didn’t feel oh so fucking right to see Geoff on his toes to kiss Michael again, he would be damned. Their lips were back together and warm and Michael’s entire mind was static fire, opening his mouth to let Geoff in and Geoff was swirling his tongue in Michael’s mouth like a hurricane that was taking Michael away. Michael was leaning into Geoff further, pushing his lips onto Geoff’s with such force that Geoff moved from his toes to stand flat-footed as Michael kissed him harder, sucking Geoff’s tongue and finding his hands tangled in Geoff’s hair until the bartender coughed.

“Pay and leave,” he stated, looking as though he was both thoroughly confused and just as displeased. Never before had Geoff’s hand gone so quickly to his wallet as then, finding the money and practically _throwing_ it at the man as Michael rubbed his neck slowly, his own cheeks on fire. Geoff paid for both of their drinks and snatched Michael’s hand in his and ran out of the bar, not realizing how loud it had been in until they were both panting in the night air, summer air hot with excitement.

“My car’s at the curb,” Geoff said as he breathed heavily. He was bent over to hold himself up leaning his hands on his knees, recovering from their chaotic exit.

A thought of clarity struck Michael as he sucked in the night sky. “But… But you’re drunk. You can’t drive.”

Geoff blinked and snickered, standing back to his normal height. Michael realized bemusedly that Geoff was much taller than him, contraire to how he had looked when Michael was sitting on the bar stool and kissing him. “Well… To tell you the truth, I didn’t drink shit. I dumped it into the cup that the dude sitting beside me was drinking from. He must be fucking _totaled_ by now, poor guy.” Noting Michael’s sudden fearful expression, Geoff clarified, “The dude on the other side of me. I wouldn’t ever do that to you, especially since I already watched you down four of your own.”

Nodding, Michael stated, “So… You never drank. You never actually took my challenge seriously.”

Realizing what Michael was implying, Geoff quickly explained, “N-no, I took you seriously, you were just so y-”

Michael held up a hand, stopping Geoff dead in the middle of his sentence. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant… Was to ask why you were blushin’ if you weren’t drunk.” Even as he spoke, he found the answer to his own question.

Geoff smiled apologetically.


End file.
